Auction #10: The Short Chain of Memory

November 10th, 2009

Heidi by Sarah B. EvansHeidi
by Sarah B. Evans

Glass beads and chain on braided black cords.

Based On:
“The Long and Short of Short-Term Memory” by Cecil Castellucci

This auction has ended. Thanks to everyone who bid. Please check the front page for more auctions, going on through the first week of December, 2009.

As a student surrounded by people like Heidi everyday, she felt to me like a very real character who really deserved to be canonized in beads. The braided cord I used was for her particular hairstyle, which added quirk to her character and, I think, to the choker. The more colorful glass beads dotting the piece are for her memories, the things she so valued and that ultimately undid her: they’re colorful, vivid, and the faceted, chunky shapes of the glass were something I like here as not only a contrast to the darkness of the necklace, but to represent bits, fragments, of memory. The silver chain is for pretty, and in places, to represent Heidi’s memories tied to her mind, unable to forget anything. And the bit of frayed cord in the center is to represent the surgery, the severing of her hippocampus.

Sarah B. Evans

Heidi Heidi Heidi and Party on the Moon Heidi and Party on the Moon

Story, Artist, Author: , ,
Filed under Auctions, Interfictions 2, Jewelry, Necklaces | Comments (2)

2 Responses to “Auction #10: The Short Chain of Memory”

  1. Chandra Peltier on November 15, 2009 4:06 pm

    This is lovely, and I can see it pairing well with jeans or something dressier.

  2. cecil on November 17, 2009 1:32 am

    I am in love with this necklace. Thank you Sarah, for making such a great piece about Heidi.

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A Taste Of Interfictions 2
“She paid admission. Then they walked the direction all visitors had to go, through the museum and toward doors leading out to the historic village. With its coke machine just inside the entrance, the museum seemed a harmless, well-regulated place, comforting and normal. Yet the discontent he had noticed when his feet hit the gravelly parking lot, out by the split-rail fence, still held on and was with him yet as they walked out the back door.

He could control it even so: a trifling weight he would shrug off, somewhere, if only he could find the right place.”
From: Stonefield by Mark Rich

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